


Become As Coal

by AuroraExecution, w3djyt



Category: Green Lantern (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types, Green Lantern Corps (Comics), Sinestro (Comics)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alien Sex, Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Fear Play, Language Kink, M/M, Marathon Sex, Pillow Talk, Post Rebel!Hal, stupidly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraExecution/pseuds/AuroraExecution, https://archiveofourown.org/users/w3djyt/pseuds/w3djyt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sinestro finds Hal at the end of a battle just as his gauntlet breaks down completely and provides salvation in the form of a little yellow ring. </p><p>In many ways, Sinestro is the backup plan Hal didn't even know he had. </p><p>[ Takes place post the Rebel!Hal arc and ostensibly post Paling. </p><p>Here there be smut. A whole ton of smut. Hal works through his problems with sex. Sinestro has no complaints (well, okay, some, but not about the sex). ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

* * *

"May your past be the sound  
Of your feet upon the ground."

 _\- "Carry On" by Fun._  

* * *

 

Silence falls and Hal falls with it, crashing to the dust and debris around him.

No more light. No more power. In the back of his mind, the gauntlet attached to his arm whines unintelligibly. No words, no instructions. Just confusion and struggle and then it too gives way to silence.

Above, the swirl of asteroids and gases whose names are buried somewhere in his mind stand in silent witness to the swath of destruction rent across a galaxy in some hidden corner of the universe. Not too far, or the distant skies would be filled with the eerie gaze of half living monuments. Not too close, or the boundless space wouldn’t feel quite so lonely.

It’s over.

It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t dare close them to the dark expanse dotted with light. If this is going to be where he finally falls, breath laboring against the dissipating atmosphere in the aftermath of desperation, he wants to see the sky. No matter how foreign. No matter how alone.

< _Hal Jordan of Earth…_ >

Brown eyes widen sharply at the sudden, familiar tones, and he instinctively bends an indomitable will to the task of pushing himself up again. It _couldn’t_ be a ring. There is no Corps to give it. Where would it possibly-?

< _… you have the ability to instill great fear._ >

It isn’t a ring that appears before him in a blaze of yellow light, however.

“If you are quite _finished_ , Jordan.”

He can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes weakly in the disappearing air around them, nor does he particularly try. The atmosphere is siphoning off, and before him a savior not as unlikely as he would like to think simply waits, a yellow ring hovering in the wreath of energy between them, but Sinestro makes no move to aid him. Soon, there won’t be enough air to breathe and Hal is wasting it on painful wheezes and the shuddering gasps that follow.

“… Yeah,” he sighs out, setting his hands beneath him by sheer force of will. The gauntlet cracks and groans as he pushes himself up, unsteadily shoving his feet beneath himself, and then falls blissfully silent again. “Yeah,” Hal repeats, this time louder as he sways to his feet, the ripped rags of his coat drifting softly after in the thinning air. “I’m done.”

The ring flies forward before either of them can move, slipping on to Hal’s left hand in a flash of yellow light. It shoots down his arm in a split second, flaring out over his clothes in a black and gold barrier to the vacuum surrounding them. The gauntlet and its pack drop, abandoned to the rocky dust at their feet. He looks up.

Sinestro meets his gaze with a smug curl of his lips, and extends a hand. “Welcome to my Corps, Hal Jordan.”

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Unquenchable

* * *

"Love is like a friendship caught on fire.  
In the beginning a flame,  
very pretty, often hot and fierce,  
but still only light and flickering.

As love grows older, our hearts mature  
and our love becomes as coals,  
deep-burning and unquenchable."

\- _Bruce Lee_

* * *

 

It is several hours before Sinestro finally makes it back to his living quarters on New Korugar – perhaps even the equivalent of an Earthen day. He’s not terribly concerned, and there’s honestly too much to do for him to completely abandon his normal schedule in one day, but there’s still a sense of relief when he checks his ring for Jordan’s location. It’s not as though he’d been locked away – Sinestro knows better than anyone that is the quickest way to chase the man off – and he has a yellow ring besides.

It’s just… nice. It has been a long time since he had someone to come home to, and the Hal Jordan he’d found adrift on the bones of celestial bodies shattered by sheer force of will was a man in desperate need of a damn _break_ for once in his life. Sinestro is happy to provide.

So he drifts into his personal quarters through the layers of security managed by his ring, lips twisting unexpectedly fond as he spots Hal idling by the large span of windows overlooking the growing city vista below. For now, Sinestro remains silent: content to drink in the view of Hal at rest, if not completely at ease. They can work on that, at least. He steps close enough to share the view, absently tracing Hal’s line of sight to see what has his attention.

Hal has caught himself thinking multiple times throughout the last... day, or however long it's been, that it's been so long since he's been this relaxed. It had led to thoughts of when, exactly, the last time was, and he thinks now that it may have been before his father died. After that, he’d always been either busy or miserable, or both.

He'll eventually get bored, he knows, and antsy enough to go back to saving the universe and Earth, but for now he really needs this time to let go and simply wallow in warmth and happiness in Sinestro's bed. After the immense amount of responsibility on him as a renegade, Hal is simply tired of having to think about things – of having to hold all of the Green Lantern Corps on his shoulders.

It's why, despite his usual active temperament, Hal has stayed in Sinestro's rooms all day. There's a certain amount of comfort in being surrounded by Sinestro's smell and lazing in the Korugarian's bed. For once, Hal isn't ready to jump back in just yet.

It’s nice, Hal thinks, as Sinestro slips into the room again and comes up behind him. It's nice to have someone who is coming back to him, who still wants him despite everything, who hasn't given up on him. He half-consciously shifts backward so that he's just touching Sinestro.

It’s an offer the Korugarian could never refuse. So he slips an arm around Hal’s waist and steps in close enough to draw himself in line against the other man. He tilts his head then, burying his face into the surprisingly lengthy fall of hair that brushes Hal’s shoulders now and inhales deeply. It’s still strange, but Hal’s scent is as soothing as always and he lets himself wallow in it, for now.

“… What do you think?” he murmurs into Hal’s ear – of the city, of his day, of them.

"Mmm," Hal hums, settling into the hold. It's surprisingly comfortable despite all they've been through. "Your bed is quite nice." He turns his head to press his smile into Sinestro's shoulder.

Sinestro makes a low, pleased noise in the back of his throat, and his hold on Hal’s waist tightens. “Moreso when we share it,” he points out.

Hal's smile expands into a smirk, still hidden against Sinestro's skin. "Agreed," Hal murmurs, not moving from his position. "But you were gone for a long time so I had to enjoy your bed by myself."

“… Care to elaborate, Jordan?” Sinestro’s voice, thankfully, is steady, no matter how rough it wants to be just from the sheer amount of images that one statement assaults him with. It’s all too easy to lose himself in thoughts of Hal spending the day in his bed, entertaining himself in his absence. A sight he hadn’t known he could have been privy to and now sorely misses.

"Would you like a demonstration?" Hal inquires, voice sinuous. He takes the opportunity to scrape at Sinestro's shoulder with his teeth, a prelude to a bite.

“I could be convinced.” Sin’s voice is hardly breathy, but there’s an edge of roughness to it that speaks of sharp and immediate lust. He tips his head down and drops his shoulder to encourage the press of Hal’s teeth into it as his own nip at the edge of a round ear. “It will be quite some time before I have to leave again… I intend to make the most of it.”

There's a bubble of pure happiness and satisfaction that feels like it's floating out of Hal's heart right now. Sinestro is back for a prolonged period, and Hal thinks maybe some of that is related to himself. Even if Hal knows he could just be hearing what he wants, it's still a nice feeling.

The rest of Hal is too busy focusing on the sensation of Sinestro biting his ear. He shivers a little. "You'd better," Hal pouts, lifting his best puppy-eyed gaze up to meet Sinestro's. Hal's new ring's main duties during that period had consisted largely of acting as a fancy watch. "You were gone for a whole _day_."

It’s an odd combination of amusement and a twist of something Sinestro isn’t quite sure of that sits in his chest when Hal looks at him like that. “Ensuring we have more time to ourselves from now on,” he replies, lips curled into a smirk. Some of it, of course, had to be done regardless. Some of it was a half-conscious check to see if Hal really _did_ intend to stay. A little cruel, perhaps, but when it produces this sort of eagerness in a newly reclaimed lover, Sinestro is hardly repentant.

He directs them both back from the wall of windows, an absent command through his ring shading them from the outside world. As proud as he is of what lays beyond, nothing can compare to the being in his arms, and he is loath to be distracted from enjoying that any further. “I trust you managed to settle in in my absence…” It’s a slow dance in low light from the edge of his quarters far deeper in, where a large bed waits for them, and he’s content to let his hands wander as he navigates the distance for them both.

On another day, Hal might have pushed Sinestro harder. There would be arguing and discussion and so forth, but today, after all he's been through for the sake of the universe, after the gnawing loneliness and lack of touch, Hal is perfectly content to let Sinestro manhandle him to the bed.

Hal blithely presses close and runs his hands along the spectacular muscles of Sinestro's abdomen. He’s always been a fan of those.

There’s a marked shiver from the touch that Sinestro does nothing to hide. Why should he? Having Hal’s hands on him again, so clearly wanting to feel the ripple of his muscles as he responds to the heat of his lover is far too enjoyable to hide. Humans might not have the same response to arousal to their companions as Korugarians, but even after so long Sinestro can easily see the pleasure Hal derives from it.

He lets Hal’s hands wander with a low hum of appreciation all but purred into his lover’s ear, even as he settles them both on to the bed. Another silent command whisks away both their uniforms. His smirk deepens while he straddles his companion, a hand to his chest, pushing the man down to the mattress even if he’s not otherwise impairing Hal’s movement.

“I admit… you look good in my colors.” Thaal leans down, close enough to share breath and hold Hal’s gaze. “But I think I prefer stripping you of them.”

At the point when he joined the Sinestro Corps less than 36 hours ago, it had been months since Hal had shared anyone's bed. There were multiple good reasons for it, but that hadn't made it any easier. And despite having already gone several rounds with Sinestro the night before, Hal is still aching for it, desperate to be touched, especially by this man.

If Hal is honest with himself, he's been waiting for Sinestro for a long time.

He wonders if Sinestro was waiting too. At the least, there's an intensity between them that Hal can feel. God, that low purr in Sinestro's voice and the fire in his eyes almost convince Hal that maybe he’s been wrong about how Sinestro viewed their relationship.

Even without the answering jolt of hormones to confirm it, Hal’s arousal is so painfully obvious that Sinestro almost feels bad for having made him wait. No amount of taking the edge off could make up for all the time they spent apart. There is certainly no other lantern capable of what Hal Jordan can accomplish and that’s a heady, desperately arousing thought in its own right, but it’s not the reason Sinestro's pulse quickens and adrenaline shoots through his veins like liquid fire – urging him to touch and bite and kiss and claw and take.

It’s maddening.

But that’s what it’s like having Hal Jordan as a lover. The man is plainly addictive. Skin too hot, tongue too wicked, and the intoxicating demand to be made thoughtless in his desire – it’s a wonder Sinestro can ever leave their bed. And no surprise he always returns to it. So he rolls his hips down, fierce and encouraging, grinding their erections together with a hiss and a moan.

“Tell me, Jordan.” Sinestro’s hand slides up to Hal’s neck so he can curl it into loose hair and tug just enough for Hal to feel the strength of his grip. “You have had a whole day to yourself… how prepared are you for me?”

A loud cry of pleasure pierces the air, and it takes a second for Hal to realize the sound came from himself. He's not really bothered by the realization, though. Why should he be ashamed of wanting Sinestro?

Hal smirks up at his once-again-lover, both teasing and wanting at once. "How much do you think?" he asks coyly, "I had to replace you with _something_." He grinds back against Sinestro as he adds: "It wasn't as good, though."

Even though it’s what Sinestro wanted to hear, the admittance hits him harder than he’s really prepared for. He instinctively rocks back down again, a low growl escaping as enticing images flash in his mind’s eye. Hal desperate for his touch, pawing through drawers and cupboards for some kind of lubricant because he would never just ask his ring for the location. But then using that very ring – the one he had waited so long to place on Hal’s hand – to work himself open, lying back in a bed mussed by their previous couplings, spread wide and struggling to keep the construct fully formed as his mind wanders and his breath hitches and –

It’s never enough.

How many times must Hal have tried to master himself well enough to lose himself? How many times did he collapse into the bed unfulfilled and hungry for Sinestro’s touch? How often had he continued, slicking himself up by hand when constructs were out of the question on the off chance Sin would return soon enough for it to matter?

There will be time to draw this out later. Just then, Sinestro can’t summon the patience or even the want to deny either of them further. He presses their mouths together for a single, breathless moment, and then he’s moving again, slipping off his human lover and bodily flipping him over. Hal can appreciate the roughness and the need in his touch, so he doesn’t bother to gentle it, moving immediately to spread Hal’s legs and settle between them.

“How badly have you wanted this? Wanted _me_?” Sinestro growls, grabbing Hal’s hips with both hands and canting them up to a better angle that bows his back so beautifully beneath him. “How _long_ , Jordan?” The words are accented with a sharp roll of his hips, burying him deep in the slick heat with a smooth slide afforded by what had to have been frequent or at least recent play. It makes him groan and tighten his hold on his next, hard thrust.

Hal is not certain how he can still be this turned on after the previous session, but leave it to Sinestro to draw the impossible from him.

He's lost in a haze of want from the very first growl that escapes Sinestro's mouth. After that, he simply moans helplessly and lets Sinestro move him, as he takes Hal apart in order to put him back together. Hal willingly lets Sinestro take the decisions out of his hands. After being on his own for so long, he wants nothing more than for someone else to make his choices for him. And Sinestro… Sinestro came for him. Sinestro has always come for him. Hal is tired of not being able to trust him, tired of trying and failing with Carol and everyone else, tired of feeling guilty about how much of his heart has always belonged here, and tired, most of all, of being afraid of that fact.

"Specifically today?" he gasps out, "Shortly after I woke up."

Maybe this _will_ turn out to be a bad decision. Maybe it's going to end up hurting him in the long run. Maybe, but Hal doesn't care. After all, Hal's greatest strength is charging in without thinking, according to Sinestro.

"In general?" he continues, after moaning and shivering his way through another hard thrust, "Since the beginning."

It shouldn’t effect him so much after so long, but having Hal in his hold again, all the soft skin and corded muscle shivering from his touch is an intoxicating blend Sinestro willingly drowns himself in. The wanton sounds of pleasure that echo loudly in his cavernous chambers and follow sinfully sweet admissions only drag him down faster. It’s been too many years and too many nights and too many fights not to give himself over to the passion of their reunion, no matter the part of him whispering caution – in his attachment, in this moment, in Jordan’s loyalties, in losing his carefully maintained control.

Sinestro quickens his pace, thrusting deep and hard and fast into the pliant, vulnerable form already bruising in his grip. There are still fading marks littered along Hal’s shoulders and neck from the previous night. It makes Sinestro’s breath catch just reminding himself of how desperately they’d fallen together after finally finding the irascible human once more. They had been nothing but frantic hands, urgent mouths and breathless words lost to lust and relief and something neither had since ventured near in the sanity of satiety that followed.

No matter the view, the desire to touch overwhelms, and Sinestro is soon sliding a hand from Hal’s hips, low into the dip of his back, then up along his spine until bent over the length of his lover, a hand tangling in long hair. He bends his fingers, firming the hold and twisting Hal’s head back at an angle that lets Sinestro bury his teeth into the yielding skin of a still-bruised neck. The ring may announce Hal’s temporary allegiance, but the way he arches into the claiming bites proves his desire and Sinestro will take that a thousand times over before he demands something so paltry as loyalty from Hal Jordan.

Hal can't do much with the way he's pressed facedown into the bed, so he does his best to push back into the thrusts. "Thaal—" It bursts out of him unintentionally but he bulks up his willpower and doesn't succumb to the rising fear.

Sinestro is asking for him, Hal can feel it, and Hal gives himself over completely. He uses all the strength of will that supposedly makes him the greatest Green Lantern and pushes past the fears of where this will take him, the fear of Sinestro's rejection. For now, at least, Sinestro plainly wants him desperately, and Hal revels in the simple sensation of being desired.

Hal lets go of any of the shame he might have had left and simply lets himself feel, lets himself cry out and moan and beg as he feels the urge. He arches into Sinestro's bites, asking to be claimed further. For now, Hal belongs here, belongs to Sinestro, and that's enough.

“That’s it.” Sinestro’s voice is low and husky as be breathes encouragement and praise into Hal’s ear.

The churn of fear in his lover cuts against the fury of passion that seeks to overwhelm them both, leaving him only more acutely aware of the powerful man in his hold. He wants to bask in the thrill of that emotion and of the will that bluntly forces it to heel. Wants to see what Hal can do when he tweaks that hold from restriction and chains to the hilt of a blade. It has taken Sinestro many long years laboring on his own to truly master his own fears as much as that of others but he’s certain – absolutely _certain_ – Hal can do the same with his guidance. The mere thought of it wrenches a pleased groan from his lips and he momentarily loses himself to the heat and sounds of this one incredible man falling apart beneath him.

It’s that selfsame cut of fear that sharpens Sinestro’s focus once more, balancing precariously on the edge of his pleasure. He cants his hips and drags his hand around from Hal’s side, to curl deliberately around his erection instead, stroking in long, practiced motions. Just firm enough. Just fast enough. In all the ways he knows make Hal completely unravel.

Then he adds his voice again. “Let go, Jordan.” It’s something not unlike an order, but softer. “I have you.”

The sound that wrenches free from Hal's throat is one he's certain he's never made before – there's a mix of desperation and relief obvious amidst the clear pleasure. Over the years, no one has ever made him feel quite like Sinestro does, and Hal supposes maybe that should have been a sign. No matter how long it's been, Sinestro's hands still know Hal's body reflexively and touch him in ways Hal can't resist.

By now, Hal has lost all control of his body, and he simply floats along in bliss like a boat on a burning sea. No matter what happens, Sinestro will keep him safe, will come when Hal calls, will save the universe if Hal asks him to. Hal holds on to that thought as Sinestro's voice beckons him, the world narrowing down to the sensation of Sinestro's hands and cock, guiding Hal.

Hal trusts Sinestro, still, always.

Hal is alive, and in love, and safe in his lover's arms.

Hal lets go.

Sinestro catches him with soft words and a strong hold: praising in quiet phrases from a dead language and milking Hal’s release with a steady hand. His words hitch in spite of his efforts, moans escaping as Hal’s muscles clamp down around him, dragging him in deeper. Sinestro shudders and buries his face into Hal’s neck, breathing him in and holding him close, rocking into his lover through the tremors of climax.

He holds out. Through nothing more than his own indomitable will, Sinestro holds himself back to see Hal through the fall. And only when he’s _sure_ – when his lover lies wrung out and panting beneath him – does Sinestro allow himself to give in as well, plummeting willfully over that same edge with a wordless, muffled groan of satisfaction pressed into Hal’s neck.

Through the fog of his orgasm, Hal vaguely feels the firm arms around him, keeping him anchored to the universe. Then there's the sensation of Sinestro nuzzling his neck, and then thrusting forward and spilling deep inside of him. Hal pushes back against his lover as best he can, trying to help Sinestro through it the way Sinestro helped him.

For a while Hal doesn’t move, just basks in the warm blissful afterglow and the feel of Sinestro's skin against him. The moment he can, he starts struggling up, trying to turn himself to face Sinestro again.

It’s a familiar movement, and Sinestro shifts in kind: rising up enough to pull out with a soft groan, and settling to Hal’s side. He draws them together with softer touches, allowing Hal the small freedom of arranging himself comfortably, but nothing more. Hal’s skin feels feverish against his own, and there’s still an underlying neediness he doesn’t expect to vanish for some time, but that’s fine. For the moment, it means trapping the man against him even as he fondly brushes aside loose strands of brown hair, allowing Hal the time he needs.

Hal feels as needy now as he did before they started, just of a different sort. He reaches up for Sinestro, wordlessly begging, and pulls himself up by Sinestro's shoulders for a kiss. One, he finds, isn't enough, and he presses closer for another and another, until he loses count. His eyes slip shut as he drowns himself in the warmth and safety of Sinestro's embrace.

Sinestro’s arms tighten, one hand flattening against Hal’s back, pinning them together as the other twists the hair in his grasp and drags him into a deeper kiss. He chases Hal’s silent pleas with easy command, demanding control with the swipe of his tongue and snaps at reddened lips when it takes his lover a moment to relent. Less actual irritation than simple admonishment. There is no need to chase him down: he’s not letting go.

Only when he’s sure he has Hal’s undivided attention does Sinestro move again, easily rolling Hal to his back and allowing his weight to press his lover to the bed. It’s a sure, solid assurance of his presence just as much as a clear demand for Hal to settle. Sinestro augments the physical command with another, tilting Hal’s head to gift himself better access to seal his mouth over kiss-bruised lips and draw the very breath from his lungs.

Hal revels in it all – in belonging somewhere again, in the warmth and affection clear in Sinestro's kisses, in the lack of expectations aside from lying still and being kissed, in a moment he hadn't been certain would ever come again. He goes willingly into this, letting Sinestro literally take his breath away. "Sin," he gasps when he has a moment free, "Please."

The words shoot straight down Sinestro’s spine in a way he simply hasn’t felt with anyone else. For all the ease with which Korugarians adapt to their bedmates, it’s a special kind of thrill to lay with one who can inspire true and unmitigated lust without also being capable of returning it in kind. As it is, he knows it will be a short while at least before Hal is as hard as he gets from those two words and the mindless want they convey.

He gives a low growl, switching his teeth and tongue to Hal’s neck once more. Sinestro’s hands follow the shift, unwilling to resort to constructs just yet when the feel of human skin beneath his hands is still far too much something of memory. His weight remains a solid presence against his lover, but he has no compunctions in dragging his hands down well-muscled legs to hike them up and tilt Hal’s hips just enough to slide back into his lover with a heated moan. It’s a much different need than before – one that demands far more intimacy than the heat of just moments ago, but one that he savors all the more for it.

Hal is still a little sensitive, but he can admit this has been a secret fantasy of his for ages, so he simply holds on and blissfully runs his hands along Sinestro's chest. He likes the thought of Sinestro doing what he wants. Sin is already plunged deep inside him again, slick from the remnants of Hal's earlier preparation mixed with Sinestro's come. Hal feels well and truly claimed.

"Yes," he replies, despite the lack of a question, arching his head back to expose his neck further, eyes slipping shut in satisfaction.

Sinestro doesn’t bother hiding the smug smirk that reaction draws from him and immediately sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh. It’s an unabashed pride of his that fills his chest this time. That Hal surrenders so easily. That Hal wants him. That he’d been _right_ after all this time. He still knows what Hal needs. Better than anyone else. Better than Hal.

He rolls his hips again, hard and deep, but slow enough to really enjoy the slick heat of his lover for more than the mere minutes of their first coupling. Sinestro intends to take his fill of Hal for as long as the human can manage – and longer still, if he really is as accurate at reading the needy touches and vaguely incoherent words as he thinks.

“You are mine, Hal Jordan,” he murmurs and somehow it’s more soothing than aggressive. “Mine alone.”

"Yours," falls instinctively from Hal's lips. He knows it might be a self-delusion but he lets himself believe, at least for now, that Sinestro means more than the sex, that this isn't just something he's saying because it's hot.

And it is, despite Hal not being recovered enough yet to get hard over it. Hal wants this, wants to be Sinestro's, wants to stop thinking for as long as he can. He moans into Sinestro's thrust and arcs his hips into it. Some of Sin's come is still slipping out of him, and Hal shudders at how much he likes it. It makes him feel used in a very good way – the complete opposite of the way he feels used by the Guardians.

Just hearing the claim echoed sends a wave of heat down the full length of Sinestro’s body, but it’s the way Hal trembles against him that makes him want to shove the man into the bed and fuck him until he can’t walk straight. As it is, Sinestro gives one last nip to Hal’s thoroughly abused neck and pushes himself up so he can truly appreciate the sight his lover makes, sprawled out flushed and panting, somewhere between mauled and resplendent beneath him.

“You are perfect like this.” Sinestro’s hand drifts absently along the inside of Hal’s thigh, and the words he uses are deliberate, Korugarian phrases. He brings his other hand back into play, resting both on powerful thighs and then pressing both down to the bed. “You like it, don’t you?” He rocks back, watching as his cock slips almost completely out, precum and the remnants of his previous climax slickening the way. “You _need_ it.” Hal is still soft between them, but the clench of muscles around Sinestro’s length as he presses back in is enough to tell him how much the man is enjoying himself. “Tell me, Jordan. Let me hear you.”

If he had been shameless earlier, Hal is absolutely wanton now. A chain of whimpers and moans accompanies every touch and movement from Sinestro, and he knows but doesn't care about the flush on his cheeks at the Korugarian phrase. Even unable to truly enjoy it yet, Hal is desperate to have Sinestro inside him again.

"Anything," Hal croaks out, "Sin, god, please–" He pushes his hips forward, trying to press Sinestro deeper. "I need–" A hundred endings to that sentence flash through Hal's head; _this_ , _more_ , or something lewd. Instead he says: "–you."

Sinestro’s hands tighten their grip involuntarily – Hal is going to have bruises in the shape of his hands on tan thighs and really that just makes the deep tug of Hal’s words shake him breathless all the sooner. “You have me,” he roughly manages, black-gold gaze searing in its intensity as it sweeps over the length of Hal’s form. The moment ends with a burst of movement that shoves Hal’s legs down into the mattress and slams him deep into his lover.

For all his previous efforts, Sinestro can’t find it in him to draw it out any longer. It’s not what Hal wants. It’s not the visceral _need_ that drives him hard and fast into the human in his grasp. His breath shudders and the slap of skin to skin is loud and obscene and _perfect_. Utterly perfect. It’s no surprise when his pace falters not long after – a jerk of his hips and a catch of his breath and then he’s spilling in long, hot spurts, deep inside his lover.

Hal pulls Sinestro down and holds on to him through the climax, pressing fluttery kisses to Sinestro's shoulders and neck. "Sin," he moans, his arousal completely separate from his physiology at this point, " _Thaal_." Hal feels like they belong to each other fully like this, and some part of him wishes this would last forever, so he never has to let go, so that Sinestro is always his.

It’s a rush of a different kind that sends a shiver down Sinestro’s spine from the soft utterance of his given name to the soft kisses that pull him back to the present. He exhales, shakily allowing himself the reprieve Hal offers as the new chemical cocktail that sloshes through him relaxes his muscles and sinks him down into Hal’s embrace. “Jordan,” he softly returns, tucking his face into Hal’s neck once more and drawing a deep breath that helps ease him into a softer high that he knows from experience will linger.

Hal surprises even himself with how quickly he switches to adoration. Sinestro is warm and relaxed and a rare brand of affectionate that _still_ makes Hal swell with pride to know he caused it. He strokes his hands up and down Sinestro's back comfortingly.

He's both surprised and enchanted and unbearably pleased to see Sinestro like this again. He checks Sinestro's eyes and confirms that yes, his pupils are definitely blown wide, which means this is that special aspect of Korugarian biology that has Sinestro languid and uncharacteristically affectionate. There's a strange feeling in Hal's chest. He hadn't ever expected to see this again.

"Thaal," he whispers reverently, pressing his lips to Sinestro's again, soft this time.

Sinestro gives another soft, shuddering sigh – gaze distant as he struggles between sinking deep into a potent high he hasn’t experienced in some time, and denying himself the parts of it he can in order to stay as completely in control as his lover seems require. But Hal’s hands are convincing to an already exhausted body, and soon it isn’t even a struggle any longer. He can feel some of the nervous energy bleed from Hal’s form as he sinks into the warmth and gentle, floating detachment that thrums through his veins. It’s a little intense after so long and such longing, slipping out in a sibilant slur of Korugarian fondness, and the feather-light kisses pressed to brow and cheek and chin.

Hal finds himself flushing at the tenderness and obvious show of adoration. It hurts. He has to shut his eyes for a moment, as his throat is full and there's barely-contained dampness at his lashes. " _Thaal_ ," he repeats, needing the intimacy of the first name, and his voice shakes.

“Jordan.” It’s instinctive, but the repetition of his own name clears some of the fog in Sinestro’s head. He leans down, pressing his lips to closed lids and damp lashes. “Hal,” he corrects, softly, a growl in the back of it that he cannot excise.

This tenderness is too much, Hal is feeling too much, and he can only turn his face to the side and hide his eyes against Sinestro's shoulder. This was meant to be easy. This was meant to be his way out of dealing with anything. This wasn't meant to break open all the wounds he'd convinced himself were healed.

It’s only seconds, but that’s all it takes to sour the high from something warm and easy to a blunt plummet from euphoria. Sinestro swallows back vertigo and masters the struggle. It’s laughably easy with the curtain of fear and unease wrapping tightly around his companion. Too much. He should have known. Still, it’s too late to return to the easy power dynamic from before, so he settles on to his side once more and silently pulls Hal against him, strengthening his hold to something far more substantial.

Hal can't open his eyes, or look back at Sinestro, or do anything but lie in his arms and try not to sob. His heart beats in aching pulses and he hides further into Sinestro's arms, hoping this isn't going to get him kicked out.

Between the ring on his hand and the ache in his heart, the fact that Sinestro can draw himself away from the temptation to devour the clear terror in his arms is a testament to his incredible will, but it’s not enough. Not for him. So he draws his hand smoothly up the length of Hal’s back, trailing long fingers through the cloud of fear that surrounds them and weaving it into the familiar hum of black and yellow that marks his Corps.

“You are mine, Hal Jordan,” he repeats, throaty and decisive. “All of your dreams… all of your nightmares.”

Hal's body shakes against Sinestro's, and he presses his mouth into a series of shivery kisses to Sinestro's skin to stop himself from making a sound. His arms tighten around the warm body beside him.

“Jordan.” Sinestro tempers his voice: makes it crisp and powerful where soft and coaxing has failed. The fear is cloying and sits heavy against him. What should be a pleasant blend of hormones settles like a lump in the back of his throat and he has to lid his eyes even in the low light of the room – pupils still nauseatingly wide. He pushes it all aside and focuses on Hal.

“You are mine by more than that ring on your finger.” It’s his own fear that rises then. A familiar ghost of pain he has already suffered. He acknowledges it silently and allows it to linger in the open. “And you are welcome here for as long as you desire to stay… but if you also desire my bed, this will continue to happen. I will not fight it. I have no wish to fight it. I do so now for you alone. You… are all I truly desire in this universe.”

Hal can no longer hold on to the tears that escape from his eyelids and drip down between the two of them. He lets go silently, shoulders shaking with the weight of years falling away, and presses real, legitimate kisses to Sinestro's skin now. "Sin," he breathes out, when he can form words that sound remotely human again. "Thaal, I – I don't understand, but..." He takes a reassuring breath. "...thank you."

Sinestro frowns lightly, but allows Hal to move as he wants. His hand on Hal’s back instinctively rubs circles into warm skin protected by the thinnest of barriers. It galls him to think his initial assessment of his lover inaccurate in some way, but… well, it has been a long time, hasn’t it? For both of them. He closes his eyes in an attempt to focus beyond the muted thud of his heartbeat and the still savagely wide spread of his pupils that’s keeping him from complete calm.

None of it matters.

Sinestro raises a hand to card long fingers through loose, brown hair. He inhales slowly and relaxes on exhale, achieving, finally, the distance he needs to handle this while still appreciating Hal’s touch. “What do you not understand?”

Hal has to bend the entirety of his will toward it, but he eventually calms himself enough to swipe the back of his hands over his eyes and breathe until he feels like he can speak again. Sinestro's strong, solid frame is a comfort just because it's _there_ , and it's warm and surrounding him as if in protection.

"You still–" He takes another breath, forcing himself to continue through the fear. "–want me?"

That is… unexpected. Sinestro’s hand at Hal’s back stills and he has to focus to resume the small, soothing motion of before. It is not that he is unfamiliar with Jordan’s sporadic bouts of need for romantic attachment. It is not as though he has not dragged the man out of them – often with plenty of kicking and screaming and a few constructs to fill things out.

This, though. This feels different. It’s a deeper anxiety than just being unattached. He has tasted that before. Felt the coolness of it like a wisp of wind and nothing more. This fear is tangled and rooted and massive. It hums with strength and coils around his human like an insatiable dread beast, hissing and possessive. For perhaps the first time in all their years, he thinks he truly understands the draw Parallax feels in Hal’s presence.

“I have weighed you against the universe,” Sinestro bluntly answers, knowing now that no simple placation will do. “I would do it again in an instant. I would not have come for you were not the case.”

It's something Hal knows, deep inside, but it's still different hearing it. He presses trembling lips to Sinestro's collarbone, hoping the gratitude is obvious in the tender kiss. " _Thaal_ ," he murmurs, heart fluttering in his chest. He follows his kiss with more, still not able to look up again.

When he finally feels a little more stable, he continues: "I didn't think... _anyone_ wanted me anymore."

Fury.

Sinestro shunts it aside. Acknowledging it is enough to take away its power. A technique he’d long ago had to learn when mastering fear, but one that is nevertheless stretched to its limits – _his_ limits – by the one person who always causes these hiccups in control.

How dare anything or anyone in the universe allow that very thought to exist. How _dare_ they forget the glory and the awe of Hal Jordan at his best. His hold tightens, just slightly. Just enough to tangle in soft, human hair before he checks the motion. Control is a hard thing to find with Hal even at the best of times.

So he distracts himself by curling down, brushing his lips over the top of Hal’s head. Contemplative. Plotting. He has an idea of how things transpired. Of what could possibly lead Hal to say those words – to think them in the first place. Sinestro exhales softly, focusing through the web of revenge he instinctively spins in his mind's eye.

“There has never been a single moment since we came together that I have not wanted you with the whole of my being,” he admits, though it doesn’t feel quite as weighted as it sounds. He has claimed this man so many times before, he’s surprised it hasn’t lost all meaning yet. “At my side, in my bed, at my back. You are the only person I want there, Hal Jordan.” A brief pause as another of his own fears flickers upward between them. This one hardly worth his attention: he knows it too well. “The only one I have ever wanted so completely,” the much quieter addition.

Hal appreciates the tightening of Sinestro's arms around him, reaffirming the things the Korugarian says, and instinctively squeezes back, tighter, like he's drowning in a lonely ocean and Sinestro is the only island. He knows Sinestro is telling the truth, somehow, but it's still hard to believe after so long. Carol had been clear that she was done with him, and Earth had Guy and Simon and the League, and the Corps had John and the Universe had Kyle. It felt like everyone else had moved on, leaving Hal behind without telling him, until the only thing he was needed for was becoming something he hated being to help his Corps heal.

Except apparently he had underestimated the strength of Sinestro's feelings, yet again. Hal thinks he should have _known_. This has always been the one man who has truly understood him, the one man who has always believed in him – apparently the only one who has always wanted him, too.

Hal won't let himself succumb to tears again, so instead he lets the thoughts warm him and focuses on pushing back the lump in his throat. "Thaal, I–" he starts, and forces himself to look up into a far-too intense golden gaze. "I'm yours." It comes bursting out but Hal holds his ground, holds eye contact even if his own eyes are a little shiny. "You can have me, Thaal. I – everything. Just don't stop wanting me. _Please._ "

“You never _stopped_ being mine.” Sinestro makes sure to hold Hal’s gaze far beyond the urge to crush their mouths together, or to pin him down and _prove it_ again. There will be plenty of time for those things later. He knows Hal better than anyone in the universe. Knows what he needs, even if there are some recalibrations to be made on the specifics of how much and how badly.

If Sinestro wanted to _break_ the man, he could see the cracks all too clearly to have drawn out the nightmares and begun the process well before now. It would be simple with a few coaxing words and a precise twist in the coil of fear so very alive still in spite of their conversation. But those are the actions of a coward who cannot stand in Hal’s brilliance. He can, and so he determines to fill in the cracks and fit the pieces back together.

“Tell me why.”

After a pause to collect himself, Hal says, "After Volthoom, I thought – you were leaving for good. But Carol broke it off with me. And... then she fell in love with… So I thought, at least I was still a Green Lantern. But then Guy and his Corps took over my sector, and only Simon was allowed to still operate on Earth. And then... the Guardians told me," he takes another deep breath, "that they needed me. So even if they only needed me to turn into a traitor to restore the reputation of the Corps, I still–"

Hal swallows painfully and averts his eyes for a moment, but quickly looks back. "I thought, at least they needed me."

The fury returns – hot and fierce and blinding.

“Cowards.” The word is ripped from Sinestro’s lips with a low growling hiss that makes it through the translations of their rings. So does the word he uses. There is something infinitely more hostile and disgusted in the phrase that never quite vanishes even after he’s found use for the rest of his vocabulary again.

“I should never have spared them.” The rage does not falter when turned upon himself. “What good is the Corps without you in it? I gave them _to you_. What good could they possibly be if they see all you are capable of and think of you as a _threat_ to be _eliminated_?”

"They didn't–" It's on the tip of Hal's tongue to deny it, but he's not sure Sinestro is _wrong_. "It didn't _seem_ like that was the agenda," he finishes lamely. He presses himself closer to Sinestro anyway, if that's physically still possible.

“Jordan, I have spent the better part of my life doing precisely the same – I _know_ when someone is being eliminated,” Sinestro snaps before he can entirely control his response. Hal _does that_ to him. It’s a similar thought that shoves Hal to his back again, Sinestro pinning him there, golden gaze flashing with something darker than before, but not as easily identified.

“How did you think it was going to _end_? Clearly, you did not expect me to come for you, so what was your backup plan? If everything went according to plan and you became the scourge of the universe _somehow_ through that blasted moral streak of yours, what _precisely_ was your end game, Jordan? How does this plan _end_ in a way that you have not been _eliminated_?”

Hal hears the words coming out of Sinestro's mouth, but he's distracted by the strange security that comes with the feeling of Sinestro's body on his, keeping him weighted to the bed, to the universe. "I don't know," he says simply, and then lifts both hands to Sinestro's face. Hal strokes the familiar jawline fondly, thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought that far."

In an instant, anger morphs to sheer exasperation that Sinestro exhales in a huff. “No, of course you didn’t.” Which was the whole reason Hal _needed_ the help running something like the Green Lantern Corps in all its unwieldy glory in the first place. The reason they are here, ultimately. Sinestro can’t bring himself to be upset about it. He leans down into Hal’s touch, eyes lidded as they wander over the man beneath him. “It remains, as ever, an infuriating attribute that is nevertheless a strength of yours when you use it correctly. I will handle the rest.”

"Yes," is all Hal manages to breathe out under the force of that stare. His eyelashes flutter slightly as he starts to sense the sweet overpowering heat he associates specifically with Sinestro. "Sin," he eventually says. One hand is still stroking the reddish skin of Sinestro's cheek, while the other now moves to slide up a still-bare chest. " _Sin_."

Sinestro presses just slightly lower, encouraging the touch as his eyes lid further, but never fully turn away from Hal. It’s a pleasant sensation on its own, but the sharp edge of Hal’s emotions are fringed with fear and even after the wash of fury and concern, the power that emanates up, into him is not so easily ignored. Not something he usually bothers ignoring these days, but with Hal there’s an extra allure that draws his hand back down, tracing over the yellow and black lines of protection he’d bent the deep wash of terror into until it melts away again.

He’s not sure what Hal traces into his own skin, but Sinestro’s fingers scratch along intricate coils of terror and through wispy, vine-like cuts of fear that cover the human beneath him. It’s a wholly different sensation than merely seeing his colors and his emblem wrapped _willfully_ around Hal Jordan. To see the human comfortable in the yellow corps uniform. To see him wearing the Qwardian sigil on his chest.

This is Hal soaked in Sinestro’s element, but somehow still here, with him. Somehow still present. Still pliant and trusting and _his_. A low, approving growl slips from his lips and Sinestro bends down the remaining distance to press their lips together, firm but measured: taking his time and his fill. His free hand wanders lower, dragging along a particularly aggressive coil of fear and coaxing it to unfurl from Hal’s chest – abating its twisted hold.

There's nothing more for Hal to do except surrender. Sinestro is reclaiming him, and Hal wants it so badly he can’t remember the last time he felt like this. With a flick of Sinestro's hand, Hal is suddenly less afraid, certain somehow that Sinestro will be there to guide him and hold him and remind him how to be brave again, even if the rest of the universe has abandoned him.

Hal gives his body over to Sinestro's care, muffling wanton moans into Sinestro's mouth. Even running out of breath, Hal only lies still and allows himself to be kissed until he can't think of anything anymore, just Sinestro. Just Sinestro and the heated demanding pulse of his kiss, and his absolute power over fear of all kinds, even Hal's.

"Sin," he gasps out between kisses, his surrender so complete he's given up remembering when he needs to breathe. "Fuck, _Thaal_."

“I have you,” Sinestro murmurs into their kiss. His hand drifts up to Hal’s neck as he breaks the kiss, stroking gently to encourage air and part the currents of fear lingering there. It’s not a difficult hold to break – not like the rooted tangle that still blossoms over Hal’s chest. That bundle is a more intricate weave and fiercely guarded no matter Hal’s intentions between them. It is also something he has no intentions to completely excise.

He could.

But that would leave Hal bereft of his own power and his will unchallenged. Sinestro would be a fool to ever think it wise to let such overwhelming will dull in the absence of innate challenge. And more so to believe Hal could never wield it for the weapon it is. Sinestro can cultivate it, though. Drag Hal through it – plunge him deep into the roots of the terror that extend to the very core of him. The thought makes Sinestro shudder against his lover, pressing their lips together again with a moan caught between them.

When he pulls away, he’s a little more out of breath and a little more vocal in his desire. “Let me show you, Jordan.”

Hal flushes, pleased to see Sinestro showing obvious signs of arousal, and floating on a wave of reassurance now that Sinestro has declared his claim. Hal isn't alone anymore. He still has concerns about the fact that that could change at any moment, but for now he's safe, at least.

"Yes," he says around a dazed half-smile. He keeps his hands where they are, touching Sinestro, just to have the physical connection to remind him that this isn't a dream.

Sinestro reaches down, but not with physical touch this time. It’s easier to manipulate things this way – with the physical touch there for reassurance and want and serving no purpose beyond pleasure and intimacy. He sinks down into the cloak of fear, his gaze growing unfocused as he tucks into Hal’s neck, littering affectionate, claiming marks along the bruised skin.

The more superficial, immediate concerns are easily blown aside in his descent deeper into the coil of terror that slips through the cracks in Hal’s psyche. Each small push, pull, and nudge is a careful, deliberate thing. Sinestro is familiar with the manipulations, but in a different way than this and he has no intentions of breaking Hal apart this way. A twinge of fear can twist to thrill and adrenaline and that he can cultivate. He knows all too well the sorts of challenges Hal thrives on, but using them to brace against the massive, coiled knot of existential terror is far more delicate work. He moves slowly and keeps his physical touch persistent.

Hal feels a change in his own emotions that he's certain is being caused by something other than himself, but it's definitely a change for the better. The memories of his time alone as a renegade are there, but somehow all Hal can think of is the exhilaration in not having to follow any rules, the freedom of being his own master, and, now that he's here, the fact that he doesn't need to answer to anyone right now and can stay in Sinestro's bed for as long as he likes.

"Sin?" Hal asks, fairly certain it's the master of fear at work. "What are you–?" He interrupts himself with a low moan, as the adrenaline takes effect and pushes him straight into arousal.

Sinestro doesn’t bother withholding the smug smirk pressed into Hal’s neck. He draws his hand back down from Hal’s collarbone, where it had rested when he became distracted, and traces an invisible trail down Hal’s chest, stopping just below his ribcage and pressing – careful, but firm.

“This is where it starts,” he explains, tugging at the thick, gnarly root of insecurity and loneliness and brushing his fingers up at the same time to give the human something more concrete to follow. It’s not much. Maybe a brush. Maybe the pluck of a string. Just enough to draw attention. Much more would hurt too much right then, but this gives a sharper edge to the thrill – cheats it closer to the precipice. “It could be power, Jordan, but you’re holding it too close… Let me have it.”

Images flicker before Hal's eyes, and he's not sure for a moment if he's seeing the things Sinestro is doing in his mind, or if he's actually creating them as constructs. His father's plane is burning, and Carol is walking away, and Sinestro is glaring at him from a cell. The new Guardians are facing him, telling him they need him, they need him to give up the only thing he has left.

It's all of the most broken parts of Hal, but Sinestro is claiming he can turn it into something great, the way he had once turned Hal into something great. It doesn't feel like giving in to Parallax at all, comparatively. Hal suspects it's the affection in Sinestro's eyes.

"You can–" he breathes, grip tightening just a little, needing just a little extra grounding right now. "Take it. Anything." He curls his upper body to pull himself upright, and presses a kiss to Sinestro's collarbone.

“ _You_ can,” Sinestro corrects, and shifts up with Hal, cradling the man in his arms and brushing a kiss to his temple. “It is not a matter of taking, Jordan.” His words are steady as he wraps Hal in his presence – hands sliding over tan skin in the same motion he uses to coax the fear away. It’s not very far, because it’s in so very deep, and Hal is still reflexively clinging to it like a child with a knife that can’t understand why an adult is trying frantically to remove it from them.

“You need to see it… and give it over to me.” Sinestro murmurs, his words quiet and precise, spoken directly into the curve of Hal’s ear. “No more pushing it away. Show me your fears… and I will show you true power.” His voice hovers somewhere between a purr and a growl, and there is another, directed _pull_ at the nightmare settled deep inside. No harder than before, but longer and slower and exaggerated in the way he had once crafted complex constructs in front of Hal lifetimes ago.

The root of it is Hal _trusts_ Sinestro. Not in everything, because Sinestro is always plotting something, no matter what he says, but he trusts that Sinestro wants Hal at his best. Sin always has, after all. So Hal, regardless of how difficult it is, regardless of the fact that all of his friends on Earth would probably be horrified that he's putting so much faith in someone they view as a supervillain, forces himself into the worst moments of his most recent escapades. There were good moments too, with his crew and his ship, but there were many awful ones. Saying goodbye to Kilowog, for one. Hal had been terrified of the idea that no one would know the truth, that everyone he ever cared about would hate him, and that thought tore him apart. The thought of that last battle with Kilowog still hurts.

And then there were the bad days, when nothing Hal did was enough, and there was no one for him to lean on. Coming back to find his Corps gone, for example. Even after he had friends, Hal was the captain, and everyone looked to him. And that – that was difficult, and often terrifying. There were nights after that when Hal had stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep, but being unable to shut his eyes. The dark void of space had stared unmercifully at him, a piercing reminder of how alone he was. Sometimes he wondered, if he simply flew into deep space and never looked back, whether anyone would care.

Hal doesn't really understand how Sinestro does his thing with fear, so he defaults to how he wields willpower on a green ring and uses his consciousness to push all of these thoughts and memories at Sinestro's mind. "You can have it," he tells Sinestro shakily, because Hal doesn't want it. Hal is done with the nights when space shrank in on him and he couldn't go home, didn't know where home was anymore. He's done being in pain and afraid over this. And Sinestro, when he means well, has always been a great teacher. Hal places another trembling kiss on the curve of Sinestro's neck.

Sinestro bites back a groan, because there is nothing in the universe more attractive than Hal Jordan surpassing all expectations – and because he cannot allow himself to focus on it as much as he would like. Hal’s movements are instinctive, and the way he handles the fear and the memories tangled in it are with the exact amount of reverence to be afforded such a weapon. Even when the man clearly thinks he has no idea what he’s doing, his instincts carry him through yet again.

For all his bluster and uncertainty, Hal really does understand fear. He could not have survived as a Green Lantern without some basic control. Could not have overcome the yellow impurity without the ability to manipulate it in some way – a true irony Sinestro is certain most Green Lanterns still completely overlook. True, most of those that could manage it did so by shunting aside fear, and to an extent Hal is not so different. But Hal can also _wield_ fear far too effectively to be completely at its mercy. Even now, when shattering in Sinestro's arms, uncertain and shaking from the effort of reliving fears come to life – he cuts them out of himself and holds them up like a beating heart for sacrifice.

And Sinestro is greedy enough to take it.

He sweeps in, gathering the chaotic bundle together and drawing it out as his arms snap tightly around his lover. The roots follow slowly, but they do follow, and he knows it is not pleasant, because he has felt the same, has burned the same into his soul, but he also knows what Hal Jordan can withstand. So Sinestro pulls, and litters soft kisses around Hal’s ear and down his neck as the roots slowly untangle and uncoil and drift out. There are hundreds – thousands – of lesser terrors hooked in to the gangly mess, and here Sinestro can truly mold something of worth, for now he has something to bleed into thrill once more. Something that can edge the sharpness of loneliness, abandonment, and heartache into something Hal can actually watch without pain.

“Fear… serves a purpose, Jordan. It is not meant to be shoved aside except by those pathetic enough to see it as weakness – as something to be overcome,” Sinestro starts again, softly, only when he is certain of his hold and capable of displaying the great beast of Hal’s terror before him. “You are hardly that. You have already wielded it. You know its strength… but it is not separate of you. The more you can see your own nightmares for what they are… the more you understand them, the more control you have over them.

“You do not want to be left behind. You are _terrified_ of being alone – of being unwanted and abandoned. Most creatures are, but in you… it sings with strength.” Sinestro’s voice takes on a soft, breathy quality usually reserved for desperate pleasures whispered at the end of a long night shared. “It’s deeper than the fear of death in most beings. And in you, almost completely unrelated. That’s what makes it so powerful, but so insidious and hard to grasp. It was wound so tightly because you gave it free reign. You ran from it.”

Sinestro pauses in his harsh words to tighten and adjust his hold, feeling the shiver of uncertainty in Hal grow and draping it, too, over the monstrous power carved out and presented to the man. He cannot allow Hal to lose focus. He _will_ not. Not now. “No more,” he rumbles, and it’s hard not to swallow the power in his grasp, but it’s Hal’s and the thought of him wrapped in it, wielding it, is too much to give up. “This… has no hold over you. It can only cause you pain if you allow it, Jordan. If _I_ allow it. And I will not. Not now. Not ever. You are mine and I will not leave you to that darkness… but neither will you. I know that because you have already overcome it in action if not in mind.

“So take it back and let it lead you forward again… but in the direction you choose and no other.”

Hal can safely say that no one in the entire universe knows him as well as Sinestro does. Even when they had barely met, even at the lowest points in their acquaintance, the one constant in their relationship has been that deep understanding that has never gone away. So Hal can face the things Sinestro is saying and admits that all of the analysis is true, to the core. He has let the loneliness of being abandoned eat at him, let it lead him to its inevitable end and didn't care.

But what Hal focuses on is Sinestro's resolution; Sinestro will not allow him to be overcome by the emptiness because Hal belongs to him. And that, it seems, was the key piece Hal was missing all along. He had thought, after Sinestro's departure, and his subsequent return to work on the Sinestro Corps, that that bridge was gone. Not burned, so much as deteriorated. Sinestro had moved on, Hal had told himself as he tried to do the same.

It's clear now Hal was wrong. Sinestro has been waiting for him. In a way, Hal has been waiting for Sinestro as well. All of the painful lonely days have led to this moment, when he knows for certain he is no longer bound by anyone's will except his own, and even when Sinestro's will takes precedence here it is only because Hal allows it. To this moment, so that Hal can learn that he is not alone, was never alone, because Sinestro wants him fiercely, always. To this moment, when Hal realizes he _can_ triumph over this thing, because Sinestro believes in him, and Hal, despite there being decades and multiple universal threats in between, is somehow still the cadet who desperately wants to live up to his mentor's expectations.

There's something rough in his throat, but Hal doesn't want tears anymore. Instead, he listens to the quivery thrill from Sinestro's belief in him and claim on him. Still trembling slightly, Hal surges upward and kisses Sinestro savagely, begging without words.

Sinestro leans down into the kiss, tilting his head to encourage more of the same. It is one thing for Hal to give in to him – a thing of intense beauty and desire, definitely, but _this_ … This is Hal Jordan on fire and eager for him and that is worth so much more. He sweeps his hands down low, tucking under the backs of Hal’s thighs and pulling him up, towards him as he settles back, dragging them flush so the heat of his human lover washes over him.

Throughout it all the fear does not lessen – and that’s a separate thrill that makes Sinestro, for perhaps the first time, lose his breath to their kiss. It’s remarkable that even as he feels Hal give in and give himself over to his own capable hold, Jordan immediately puts to practice that which allows him to keep what had been overwhelming before. To make something of it. Sinestro loosens his grip on the tangled terror between them even as his hands firm their hold on the man pressed against him, and lets the fear slip back, little by little, to Hal alone.

Amidst the fog of pleasure, with most of his focus on Sinestro's tongue and lips, Hal manages to catch that Sinestro's breaths are short. He smiles hazily, proud that this was his work.

The fear isn't gone, but he had wielded Sinestro's ring once. There was a part of him, even then, that inherently understood that Sinestro wasn't devoid of fear – had only learned to master it for productive use. It doesn't really matter, though, because Hal is past it. Because even as Sinestro told him to face it, to reject it, Hal _had_ , and now he's being rewarded with an ever more demanding series of long hot kisses. In this moment, Hal is content in a way he hasn’t been for years.

Another low growl of approval slips between them, and Sinestro is lost. He wants to let his hands wander, to drag his teeth and tongue along bruised skin, to bury himself in Hal’s heat – but also to watch him shine, to see him cloaked in fear, but as its master, wrapped in gauzy terror and _his_. It’s not often Sinestro finds himself wanting so much so disparate of each other so completely. In all cases, it’s because of the man in his arms.

“Jordan.” His voice lowers with a husk, rough at more than the edges and full of desire. Sinestro releases his hold of the fear and looks up as his hands fall to the backs of Hal’s knees, tugging him after, wider. “Let me see you.”

Hal has a stray thought that the Guardians, not to mention all his friends, would be horrified to know how used to obeying Sinestro's commands Hal really is. The instant Sinestro finishes speaking, Hal is already pushing his hips forward, spreading his legs wider as he tilts his head back to expose his neck, unashamed of what he has to offer because this is his wheelhouse, and because Sinestro's arousal was clearly pressed into Hal's leg not a moment prior. And really, Hal thinks vaguely, it's just difficult to do anything but give in when Sinestro's voice sounds like _that_.

There’s another low rumble not unlike a purr as Sinestro takes in the view, and then leans in again, pressing open mouthed kisses down the exposed line of Hal’s neck, drifting along his collarbone and then lower still. One hand slips up and around to curl into the small of Hal’s back – a steadying force of pressure against his wandering lips. It’s not long before he’s pushing up again, searching out Hal’s lips and breath one more time before he breaks away, gaze heavily lidded, pupils blown all over again and this time there’s no dragging himself out of it. No want to, either.

“Perfect.” Their rings leave the phrase alone, allowing Hal to hear the guttural, Korugarian word for everything Sinestro puts into it. He leaves one final kiss against Hal’s breast, just over where a human heart beats long and slow to Korugarian ears, and then slowly lays himself back, hands sliding down stomach muscles and then brushing over powerful thighs once more, settling there with a faint scratch of sharp black nails over soft human skin.

Hal can see all the marks of Sinestro's arousal, and it only makes him want this more. Moving forward, Hal raises himself up so that he's hovering over Sinestro's lap in a half-kneel. Hal is _almost_ completely sure this is what Sinestro wants, and it's also definitely what _Hal_ wants, because really he just wants to feel Sin connected to him again. He'll take this as many times as he can before his sense of responsibility comes back.

He reaches a hand back to finger himself open, legs trembling with the effort of holding himself upright against the blazing arousal. His other hand presses flat against the delightful musculature of Sinestro's stomach, holding Hal steady.

Sinestro’s stomach tenses beneath Hal’s hand and he has to fight back the urge to roll his hips up, unable to convince himself it would be worth breaking the image above him. He’s always thought Jordan attractive, but it’s different when that attraction turns to lust – when Hal is hot and eager and open in his desire. When Hal wants _him_. When Hal is wearing _his_ ring, straddling _his_ hips and giving such a lewd performance for him alone. Sinestro’s fingers dig into the thick muscle of Hal’s thighs to keep himself from otherwise disrupting the gorgeous view, his gaze searing and nearly black with hunger.

“Show me everything, Jordan… _Hal_.” His voice is raspy and guttural – the words barely translated between them. “I want to see how badly you need this. Your desire to belong to me.”

Hal all but whimpers at hearing Sinestro use his first name, and bites his lip before remembering Sinestro wants to see everything and letting out a loud moan. He's still slick and loose from being fucked twice already today, as well as the marathon of sex from the previous day, and that thought makes him shiver.

Hal's never been good at waiting, especially not when he's this desperate, and so he obeys Sinestro's demand by lowering himself onto Sinestro's cock in one swift movement, until Sinestro is all the way inside. " _Thaal_ ," he cries out, throwing his head back.

Sharp, black nails prick like claws against fragile, human skin, drawing blood to the surface with a growl of approval. Beneath powerful hands, Hal’s flesh dips and colors, bruising in the shape of Sinestro’s grip as the Korugarian rocks up into him, hard and deep. The gold is nearly gone from his gaze – the iris a slim ring in pitch black – but his stare lingers, travelling up the full length of the human form above him.

Hal is beautiful. Powerful, vulnerable, and aflame with pleasure – lost to it. His. It takes all of Sinestro’s considerable will not to wrench control away once more and shatter the image of it all. He draws a shaky breath and loosens his hold – still firm, but enough to let his lover move. “Everything,” he repeats, low and thick.

Hal slams himself back down, giving out a low groan that coalesces into a drawn-out: " _Yes_." For now, Hal is happy to be nothing but Sinestro's, to focus only on this sharp hot pleasure, to wantonly fuck himself on Sinestro's cock like there's nothing more he wants right now, because there isn't. Because here, in Sinestro's bed, touching him, Hal is worthwhile. Hal is beautiful and strong and most of all _loved_ , and the only thing that matters is the burning heat in Sinestro's eyes. "E-Everything," he moans, moving quickly up again to start up a rhythm, the stutter from the head of Sin's cock catching on his prostate through the movement.

It’s all Sinestro can do to keep himself in check. He wants to watch – Hal always puts on the most gorgeous shows, and it’s always worth the effort, but that doesn’t make it any less difficult. One way or another, Jordan has always been a test of his patience. Thaal has always preferred their bed to battlefields, but it’s moments like these – when Hal arches above him, powerful muscles rippling under supple flesh to put all of his strength and desire on display – that prove just how completely wrapped up in this human he’s become.

Because no matter how breathtaking Hal looks, or how licentious his actions, that’s not what’s causing the near painful twist in his chest and rush of endorphins flooding his body. It’s not what makes him return to battlefields that aren’t even his over and over again. Hal does that all on his own, simply by existing. And as infuriating and utterly exhausting the man can be, Sinestro will always want him. He’s certain, because he’s tried so many times not to, and he’s done lying. There is no power in it. None, at least, that can compete with Hal Jordan.

Through half-lidded eyes, Hal can see the strain in Sinestro's arms as he keeps himself in check. There's part of Hal that wants Sinestro to move, to pin Hal down and fuck him into the bed. But there's another, stubborn part of Hal that likes the idea of continuing like this, of riding Sinestro while that burning gaze watches him.

There's something different in Sinestro's eyes, something affectionate and passionate and strangely tender, and Hal suddenly wants to kiss him. "Thaal," he gasps out, the moment too intimate for Hal to even consider calling him anything else. Hal moans freely at the slide of Sinestro's cock in and out of him, voice breaking into whimpering cries at the interspersed thrusts that press against the right spot. The overwhelming pleasure is always unexpected.

Hal is shaking from the effort of keeping himself in position and moving himself up and down, but also from the pleasure coursing through him. He is happy like this, with Sinestro filling him over and over, with Sinestro wearing a positively enchanted expression. Hal's rhythm stutters for a noticeable amount of time as he has to take a moment to remind himself _he's_ the one who caused that reaction.

A low moan catches in Sinestro’s throat, struggling out through lost breath as his hips instinctively rock up. He can usually time it just so. Exactly the angle to make Hal squirm and cry out. Right now, the focus eludes him. He doesn’t even want to try for it. He can _feel_ every clench and tremble of muscle as Hal slides down around him. Every little involuntary twitch when Hal rocks back just right, stomach muscles visibly tensing to keep himself steady against a sudden burst of pleasure. The image Hal makes above him: reddened lips swollen and barely parted for low, desperate pants, brown eyes dark and lidded, erection flush and heavy – so turned on he’s already leaking…

Sinestro moves with a low growl, sliding his ring hand up the inside of Hal’s thigh as the other steadies against the man’s hip. “Perfect,” Thaal repeats, pointedly in Korugarian and he doesn’t even know if the command to keep it that way makes it to either ring by then, and doesn’t really care besides. The praise tumbles out regardless as his hand wraps around Hal’s erection, slicking the way with precum and pumping erratically against the scarcely established pace.

Hal is too lost in the haze of heat and pleasure and the aching in his chest to properly think through anything, but he hears the word that's been branded on his heart and shudders. And he feels the press of Sinestro's hand, with the cool imprint of a ring, against his thigh, and then his cock, and there's something especially intimate about that ring moving along his length as Sinestro touches him.

Hal's rhythmic cries grow unintelligible, interspersed with cut-off moans of Thaal's name. His pacing turns erratic as Sinestro's hand drags him toward the edge. Stubbornly, Hal keeps fucking himself on to Sinestro, faster and more desperate now, trying to hold off for as long as he can–

And then Sinestro turns his hand to run the Qwardian symbol of his ring up along the underside of Hal's cock. " _Thaal_!" bursts out of Hal in a moan, and then he is forcibly dragged over the edge. In between the helpless shudders and cries, Hal manages to put what remains of his focus on to clenching and moving as much as he can, still trying to bring Sinestro with him.

It doesn’t take long. Korugarian physiology pushes Sinestro over the edge as easily as it takes him to the brink of it with all his lovers, though the timing with Hal is all but ingrained in him by then. He gasps for air, hips driving up uncontrollably as pleasure breaks over him and another chemical rush takes over. It’s dizzying and almost too intense for lust-saturated nerves to bear; his muscles pulling taut and holding him in a rigid arch until he’s completely spent and then dropping him to the bed from the sudden release of tension.

Sinestro draws a deep, shuddering breath and lets his head fall back, gaze lost somewhere in the middle distance as he allows himself a moment’s reprieve he wouldn’t dare with any other in his bed. The simple intimacy of trust is its own relief.

Hal isn't in the right frame of mind to analyze why, but somehow the feeling of Sinestro coming pressed deep inside him, the bruising grip of Sinestro's hands on his hips – somehow it brings a sense of relief and belonging and desperate aching love. Hal hadn't thought he would ever feel like this again, and here Thaal is, still touching Hal like he's special.

By the time Hal's arms give out and he collapses on to Sinestro's chest, he finds his eyes are warm and damp without his permission. He turns his face into the skin and presses an incidental kiss there.

The touch is just enough to rouse Thaal to movement. Not much, but enough, at least, to draw Hal against him, arms wound loose and affectionate about his companion. Like this, he can feel the powerful thump of Hal’s heart as it slows again to a proper, human pace once more. He can’t remember what it was like to think the slow, steady rhythm anything other than soothing.

Hal nuzzles against the cool form of his lover contentedly. For a while he doesn't move, letting his emotions settle and wallowing in how utterly spent he feels.

Eventually, Hal manages to lift his head. "Thaal?"

Sinestro moves just enough to slip his fingers into Hal’s hair, a low sound of acknowledgement following the action and not much more. After fighting the last rush of hormones, he’s hard-pressed to care about anything beyond the man in his arms. Even then, the effort required to react is leagues greater than it’s ever been.

Hal's small smile turns into a blindingly bright beam. After all these years, he's still illogically proud. Sinestro only has this kind of hormonal reaction when he's feeling emotional, and it reminds Hal that Sinestro is still so in love with him, even if that's hard to believe.

"Thaal," Hal murmurs once more dreamily, nuzzling again. It's not a question this time. He turns his head to the side, ear to Sinestro's heart, and watches his own hand slide lazily up Sinestro's side. "Thank you," he adds in Korugarian.


End file.
